Upon the River Shore

by Leona Bentley

  “Too modest to strip down?” Corey teased, flopping back onto the smaller couch while I put a pot of coffee on for us. The glint in his eyes let me know he’d seen me eyeing his big brother.

  I flushed but shrugged, not turning to glance towards the living area where they sat. “I’m fine,” I answered lamely.

  “I can see that—all the way through that shirt.”

  Not that it was all that impressive. I had always been lean, but after moving from the ranch to town, most of the weight I’d managed to gain had melted. Stress and Morgan.

  “Let him be,” Lane defended me. I was grateful. Corey dropped it, but not before shooting his brother a wide grin and a wink. My scars weren’t noticeable in the front, not really, but those on my back were impossible to miss. Better to keep my shirt on, and hope the material covered enough.

  They kept up a quiet conversation while I waited in the kitchen watching the coffee perk. It was nice hearing their voices adding life where usually the house was silent. As nervous as I was about the attraction growing between Lane and myself, it felt good to have him close.

  When the coffee finished I poured three cups before interrupting them.

  “It’s ready,” I called out. They came and got theirs, fixing them to their liking. I took my own black with a little sugar.

  When I walked back into the living room I could hardly believe how different the place looked. The furniture transitioned the rooms from unsettled waystation to settling home. We drank our coffee, and Lane and I watched as Corey slid from the couch and amused himself picking through the box closest to him, cutting open the packing tape and rifling through its contents.

  “You really don’t have to let him,” Lane sighed, shaking his head.

  “I don’t care,” I assured him, and was surprised to find that I really didn’t. It was nice to have Lane’s brother distracted enough to no longer be poking fun at my expense. “You were both a huge help. Thank you.”

  “I’m glad we could help.”

  “Ugh, mushy,” Corey muttered, lifting out an old, open-winged raven ornament of Gram’s and then discarding it for something else that caught his eye. Her china figurines came next, women in old dresses and men in well-tailored suits. Lane rolled his eyes at Corey.

  “You’re not much for charms, are you,” Corey commented, poking through the box with the contentment of a kid with a new box of toys. He was still pulling the figurines out and lining them up. There was a veritable army gathered by his knee. “I don’t feel much of anything on these, not even the breakable stuff. Just that one in the veranda, and a couple pretty old ones here.”

  “Not really, no,” I hedged uncomfortably. The fact was that I couldn’t cast charms, so anything warded had been treated by someone else. Lane’s gaze drifted to Gramp’s old dishes, but he never commented so I shook it off.

  Probably just thinking how fragile they are.

  “It’ll be great to have a bed again,” I muttered, then stiffened when I thought about what I’d said. Corey snorted, but Lane just nodded, pretending not to notice my flush.

  Thinking of the bed with Lane so close brought my mind back to how he looked without his shirt, all that skin of his stretched, sweat-damp, over muscle. It was hard to force myself back from imagining having him stretched out on that bed with me, all his sweet attention focused my way.

  You barely know him, I reminded myself firmly, forcing my mind back on the brothers and away from that dangerous path.

  “I saw the air mattress. That had to be hard on the back after a while.”

  “Yeah.”

  Corey made a strange noise, and I glanced his way in time to see him pull out a wooden carving of a buffalo skull. It was horrible, and I felt my face flame as I tried not to imagine what they thought of the thing.

  “It was my brother’s,” I offered. “He…” What? Had weird taste? “It was the last thing he carved.”

  It had been a joke. He’d made it for Gramp, since Gramp was always raging about the bones and mess left over from when his parents had actually kept livestock. Geoff, claiming buffalo were more interesting than cattle, had dug up a picture on his laptop of a buffalo skull and decided to carve it for Gramp’s birthday. I’d come across it, deserted in a corner of the old living room, when throwing things into boxes. I hadn’t been able to stop myself packing it.

  Lane shot Corey a look I couldn’t decipher and the other man shrugged, dropping it back into the box and climbing up onto the couch. He shoved the both of us over so that he’d have the middle. “Whatever. Let’s watch some television. Something has to be on.”

  We’d watched about ten minutes of the first show we found, just time enough for my coffee to be half-gone, when Corey got a text and let out a loud groan.

  “Ugh,” he grumbled. “Looks like the boss ran out of patience. See you doofuses later.”

  Alone with Lane, I sat back, nervous despite myself. I’d never intended to let myself fall for anyone ever again, but even with all the reasons I knew better, Lane had a way about him of getting past my defenses. Now, without Corey as a buffer, it was harder to ignore how much I wanted to find a way to move closer to the other man.

  “Sorry about Corey,” Lane sighed. “I have no idea where he came from. Really.”

  “He was a great help,” I assured him. “I really didn’t mind. It’s probably good he went through those boxes. I might never have gotten started opening them.”

  Lane huffed. “Yeah, but he could be a little less snoopy.” Still, the grin edging at his lips made me feel nice.

  We sat around for a while, talking and relaxing. Eventually, though, he landed a peck on my cheek and headed back to his place. Still trying to get over the shock of the sweet chasteness of the exchange, I waved him off then headed back inside.

  Without Corey and Lane there to fill the extra space, I had my first view of my home as I’d be knowing it. It surprised me how much smaller it felt. Where I’d been haunted by the extra space in the apartment I shared with Morgan, having an entire house to myself managed to feel cozy and safe. Olive wandered down and explored, climbing over everything and sniffing it. I wasn’t too sure what she thought, but at least she eventually deigned to hop onto the couch and curl up on the cushion where Lane had been sitting.

  Probably claiming the territory back, I mused, laughing to myself as I sat next to her.

  ****

  That night I dreamed of fire and death, and the crackling of the fire followed me into the waking world. I panicked, scrambling to get up before realizing it was just the rain against the roof. I sagged back into the bed, panting, hovering between relief and the last remnants of terror.

  Not willing to even try going back to sleep, no matter how wonderful it was to finally have a bed again, I eventually got up and headed down to check the furnace. I opened the blinds in the kitchen on my way to the basement, hoping the bit of light offered outdoors would be enough to chase the shadows from the corners of my thoughts.

  The wood had burned out overnight, and there weren’t any live ashes left to restart the flame. It was supposed to warm up later, so I let it be, figuring I could get some work done and that would keep me warm. I didn’t want to remain in the dark basement any longer than necessary. It had just the one narrow window high up along the wall, and the cramped space always had me checking over my shoulder while I was there.

  I'd hated the old root cellar in my old house, and this reminded me far too much of it. When I was very small the dark and smell terrified me, and Geoff's tales of dark, creepy things reaching out of the oldest of the dust-covered jars didn't help. After Gram died down there it had taken on an even darker locus in my mind. Gramp would send us down sometimes, and I hated it, clinging to my flashlight and refusing to shut the door behind me.

  It was funny how much the basement here, with its cement floor and lighting, could remind me of that place. All dark basement rooms must have a likeness somehow. Living in apartments, I had forgotten what this
felt like.

  I needed to get out again, I told myself firmly, rain be damned. I hadn’t been outside since I’d gone out with Lane, and it was getting to where the very thought of stepping out the door made me want to cringe. Gram had become that person, huddling in a safe haven and hiding from the world. It was a path leading to madness and death, and I’d have no part in it.

  I needed a job. A job would be difficult to find, but I’d be careful. There were, as with everything, strict rules governing employment by the non-magical. Jobs could not be held for more than three years, and must not involve the use of gifts. For me, this meant anything relating to emotional well-being or blood had to be avoided. It was easy enough for the latter, but emotions were tricky. Still, it wasn’t a problem as long as I kept my skin to myself.

  Gramp warned me that those with my skills were often monitored closely. I knew what would happen with a misstep, and needed no hard reminders.

  My bruising was gone, and it was time to join my community.

  I put the fixes on my resume, glancing over the education and hesitating before truthfully updating my work experience. Jake, my old boss, knew some of why I left. He’d tried to make me leave long before I finally did. He wouldn’t tell Morgan anything. He was also completely non-magical, which meant he would be safe from Morgan’s temper. It was one of the known rules, that to kill a regular human resulted in your own death at the hands of the Faded. Those who broke that rule were rumored to vanish, and Morgan had always been far too careful to let that happen.

  Chapter Six

  The need to keep moving followed me through the rest of the week. If I waited for a break it might never come, so instead I plowed along, refusing to give myself time to think. I dropped off resumes, rain long gone, and spent the rest of that afternoon wandering around my new town, getting to know the layout. Lane had mentioned that he’d be working that day, and when I stopped by the hardware store to place an order he walked out from the back and helped me find the boards and tools I was looking for.

  “I’ll bring the boards by after work,” he offered, chuckling. “There’s no way you’ll get the things into that car of yours. The risers, sure, but not much else.”

  “Thanks,” I told him. “I’m looking forward to fixing up the steps. I’m not sure how they’re still holding together.”

  “More luck than anything else, I expect. I usually try to skip them and take my chances hopping into the veranda.”

  I laughed, taking a look around. It looked quiet, and Corey was nowhere to be seen. “I thought your brother was working with you today?” I asked.

  “He’s out back with Da,” Lane answered. “They’re loading up a truck to run some supplies out to a regular. The brat is keeping out of trouble so far, but who knows how long it’ll last.”

  I imagined it wouldn’t last much longer. I’d only known him a short time and already I could see he was a magnet for trouble. Still, I nodded and didn’t make the comment.

  Lane grinned. “He’ll whine when he finds out he missed you. C’mere.”

  I leaned in, meeting him halfway for a quick peck.

  “I should go,” I said once we parted. “You’re working, and I don’t want to be in your way.”

  Lane sighed. “I’d argue, but if Corey had come out here just now we’d never hear the end of it. I can’t wait to get out of here tonight.”

  I looked at him, with all those muscles of his and those gorgeous green eyes. The warmth of the stolen affection I’d felt from him warmed me. As scared as I was, I wanted him. Maybe, if I could just cling to that feeling, I could figure out how to show him that. I wasn’t ready to take him to my bed, not yet, but maybe there could be more than the quick pecks we’d been exchanging.

  “See you later, then,” I told him, swallowing back my nerves and hoping I hid it well.

  Later. No problem.

  ****

  I was washing the last of my supper dishes when Lane arrived with my order.

  “Boards if you’re bored!” he called before knocking, startling me. I glanced at the clock then went to let him in, fighting back a smile at his corny joke.

  He was a dork. Seriously, big and dorky. The fear I'd felt early on in our acquaintance seemed ridiculous in the face of his teeth-filled grins and exuberant personality. That serious face of his had lasted all of half our first date and was shoddy at best.

  “Thanks,” I told him, helping him prop the planks along the back wall before coming on into the house. I still felt nervous, but more than that, I felt determined.

  “No problem. It gave me a good excuse to drop by and see my guy.”

  Again, point under the dorky column. I shook my head with a laugh, and we sat on the couch, enjoying the cool evening air. He smelled like sawdust, and from the dusting on his shirt I was sure he hadn’t bothered to stop for a shower this time. It made me happy for some reason, like he was getting comfortable with me. I wished I could do the same, but at the same time maybe I was—I was sitting there next to him, after all, and not edging away or trying to nudge him out the door.

  “How was work?”

  He talked about the long day, telling me about various orders placed and how he’d spent a lot of the morning chasing Corey to keep him working. “Seriously, I don’t see how anyone would hire him other than Da. He’s a good worker when he works, but getting him to focus is practically a job in itself.”

  It was nice to listen to him talk. Lillian’s comment about his never stopping when he was excited popped into my head, and I swallowed my smile, recognizing the truth in her words.

  He slowed down, and I edged closer, hesitating a second before taking the plunge and pressing our mouths together. He stiffened, and I started to pull back. Then he was returning the kiss, his fingers curling in my curls and his arm wrapping around my waist to drag me closer.

  His mouth tasted of old coffee, which really shouldn’t have surprised me. Surprise shot through him at my move, but he was more eager than startled, and as the kiss deepened his emotions settled into the burn of arousal. When we broke for breath I smiled against his lips, breathing deep. He wanted more, his emotions screamed it, but that was as far as I was willing to go just yet. I’d half expected to panic after my impulsiveness, but instead I just felt warm and pleased.

  Kissing had never interested Morgan, so maybe that was why. He’d been aroused by the feeling of power. Minor domineering in our early days had escalated to his inflicting torture and pain on me, loving watching me tremble at his feet. It’s what the entire relationship had come to be about by its end. With Lane I felt only his desire for me, and when he kissed me again he was gentle, not pressing to dominate but sharing the experience.

  “You drink way too much coffee,” I chuckled against his lips, covering up the ache of warmth inside. He mock-growled, the vibrations making me shiver.

  “Never too much.”

  I gave him one last chaste kiss and slid back, getting some space between us before my impulsiveness took us farther than I was ready for. “If you say so,” I chuckled. He read the nonverbal cues and settled back, giving me the space he probably saw I needed.

  My fault, not his. Who would even want to stay with this much of a wreck?

  “How about a game of cards?”

  Cards.

  I looked at him, narrow-eyed, but he meant it. I hadn’t played cards since Gramp’s death. Card games, back home, had been a way to fill quiet evenings. We’d relax around the kitchen table, pull out the old worn Bicycle deck, and find reason to smile around games of Crazy Eights or whatever else caught our fancy.

  “I don’t have a deck,” I admitted. The old well-used deck was still tucked away in a kitchen drawer back in Alberta, buried with the rest of that life.

  “That’s okay.” He grinned, but there was something sheepish about that look. “I actually, ah, have a deck out in the truck. I brought it just in case.”

  So play cards we did, right up until Lane had to head off for some sleep be
fore his morning shift.

  Another chaste kiss, a grin to show how very pleased with himself he was, and off Lane drove into the night. Rubbing my chin, I started off after him, bemused. He was a strange man. Help me, but I was getting worryingly fond of him.

  ****

  I woke with my throat aching from the struggle to scream. Breath heaving in my lungs, sweaty hands pressed to my chest, I took stock of the dark of my surroundings and made myself even my breathing.

  In. Out. Wait. In. Hold. Out.

  It was too dark outside to be anywhere except my new house. There had always been light in the window at the apartment I'd left. Morgan had hated it and gotten black-out curtains. I could see trees in the darkness here, and stars peeking through thick cloud-cover.

  Not Alberta.

  I was in the east. The Maritimes, people kept calling it.

  No Morgan.

  Chapter Seven

  I was getting ready to meet Lane for supper again a few evenings later when my cell rang. A quick check showed it was Kay, and when I answered she wanted to know how I was settling into the area.

  “It’s wonderful,” I answered. “Thank you for checking.” I’d worried something was wrong, so it was a relief to know she was just doing a post-purchase check-in.

  “I heard about poor Eve. I know the accident happened just down the road from you. I wanted to make sure you were doing all right.”

  “Thank you. It was a horrible accident. It’s a shame. I’m sorry. I know you must have known her.”

  We didn’t talk long, but the fact that she called at all was touching. I hadn’t expected it.

  Lillian and Joe had attended the funeral, and from the sounds of things most of the town had turned up. My own experiences with death were quiet, small vigils with only those of my own family standing over unmarked graves. The time spent at my father’s, grandfather’s, and, finally, by myself, at my brother’s had seared themselves in my memory. I wondered if it would’ve been easier to not be alone, or if having the rest of the community watching would’ve made things worse.